He stood on high, on top of mighty Olympus, staring through the portal at the mortal world below. The ache in his legs the constant reminder of how never to stand between two fighting gods. The passion they evoked with a single argument, his father flinging him to where he landed, broken and bleeding, and a throw from Olympus to Antarctica a true testament to how highly fueled his father's passion flared, was a constant reminder that his own wife felt nothing for him. Curling his fist in disgust, squeezing pebbles into diamonds with his fury, he felt contempt for the goddess his parents mated him to.
She was below, in the mortal world, cavorting with the peons of earth. Her moans and calls of passion carried in the wind, to fill his ears. His mind hated her with every ounce of his being. But his heart, his heart betrayed him, reduced him to a begging, pathetic mass, who had to pay for her every attention. With jewels and precious metals, he paid for her favor, every second of his passion spent with her, paid for with the fruit of his labors. He probably shouldn't have cared, but the disgust in her eyes as he entered her nearly chilled his passion.
For thousands of years, the play had gone on, until now. Her latest lover a mere man, of no great power, no great strength of character, as common as a human could be. But she underestimated him. It had taken time, but he had found his revenge. Turning from the portal, Hephaestus hobbled to his shop, helped by his faithful golems. Picking up the pile of gold and precious stones he'd fashioned at his wife's request, he willed himself below, to the shores of an island in the Pacific. Using his powers, he covered his deformity and appeared in the surf.
Rising from the water, Hephaestus strode from the waves. The tight, emerald green trunks molded to his body, cupping his sex. Overly full from centuries of pent-up lust, he made a noticeable and striking figure crossing the surf onto the sand. Broad-chested, muscular and hulking, he drew the eyes of all those sunning themselves. But he had eyes only for one, the one he'd searched for.
Eric sat on the beach; his toes warmed in the hot sand and lost himself in the sight of the hulking man striding towards him. This god, this divine specimen of manhood actually smiled as he reached him. Eric grew breathless as he knelt by his side, this beautiful man. Almost unbelievably muscular, the man's shoulders broader than he'd ever seen. The deep valleys of sinew on his chest, darkly forested in crinkly black hair drew Eric's eyes, causing him to swallow, nearly more audibly than the pounding surf.
The god lowered on his haunches, the sun kissing his skin. He shut his eyes and dark, long lashes fanned across his cheeks. When he opened his eyes, the smile ratcheted up, causing dimples to appear in his darkly tanned cheeks. "Who are you?"
The voice was deep, resonant, and nearly booming. Eric swallowed back his lust and stammered his reply. "E... Eric."
The god chuckled and stuck out his hand. "Pleased to meet you Eric. I'm Hephaestus."
Eric took his hand, expecting a shake, but instead, Hephaestus didn't let go. He stood and Eric had no choice but to follow. "Hephaestus? Is that Greek?"
Hephaestus laughed, low and long. "Very ancient Greek in fact."
Eric didn't even try to loosen Hephaestus's hand. He merely asked, "Where are you taking me?"
Hephaestus continued to lead him along the beach, between a couple of palms. He turned and brushed aside some foliage, revealing a cabin with open floor to ceiling windows, gauzy curtains fluttered in the breeze. "To paradise, Eric. I'm going to take us both to paradise."
Eric swallowed and mutely followed as Hephaestus led him inside the cabin. The room, starkly white, sported a very large bed, covered in soft looking linens. Hephaestus turned and brushed a hand along Eric's cheek. Eric looked away, a slight blush darkening his cheeks. As Hephaestus took the hem of Eric's shirt in his hand, Eric placed his hands on Hephaestus's wrists, dismayed at how his fingers couldn't surround half of them. "Why stop me, Eric?"
"I don't know you."
Hephaestus chuckled, low and long, brushing a hand through Eric's golden hair. So like his wife, so beautiful. The old pain nearly surfaced before Hephaestus was able to tamp it away. "You don't need to know me. I want to give you pleasure."
As Hephaestus lowered to his lips, Eric let out the nervous breath he was holding. Their lips met, gently, brushing back and forth. The nerves in Eric's stomach were instantly replaced with anticipation, with need. His shirt quickly landed on the floor, as did his shorts. Eric felt small and insignificant in front of Hephaestus's strength, power, and manly ruggedness.
Hephaestus lowered to nibble at Eric's neck, inhaling a familiar scent, one he'd savored for hundreds of thousands of years. He felt Eric's hands on the waistband of his trunks, pulling and tugging. Hephaestus chuckled as the boy pulled the trunks away, to pool at his ankles. The erection he'd had for at least three centuries stood tall and proud, brushing Eric's belly. He felt Eric gasp as Hephaestus involuntarily pushed his hips closer, dragging the wet tip of his cock along the flat planes of Eric's belly.
Taking Eric by the shoulders, Hephaestus easily picked him up, turning towards the bed, dropping his whole weight against the young man. Eric let out a whoosh of air then moaned as he drew air into his lungs. "You're so beautiful, Hephaestus. So warm. So everything."
